


Smile

by DaniKleine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Commitment, Gen, I want a Makkachin, Longing, Makkachin is a poodle i want to have, idk what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniKleine/pseuds/DaniKleine
Summary: People are not supposed to smile when they are left behind, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm a crapy writer. No betas, done at 10 PM in my phone instead of doing my thesis. Why do I keep doing this to myself...

He couldn’t understand what it means to be committed to _somebody_. Being committed to _something_ is easy, it just needs unyielding passion, unwavering patience, matching the mechanics and following what feels best. He tried doing this same process to his past lovers and was met with unsatisfactory results.

The first one said that she couldn’t feel his love for her, and that he made her feel like a precious toy he was too afraid to handle or break, so she said her apologies and farewells and slowly, gradually stopped being part of his life. He thought that perhaps he should try a male partner instead, so being the curious boy he was, he gave it a try.

He then understands that the gender really was a factor, seeing as he much preferred being with a male companion who could easily catch his drift rather than a woman who keeps indulging him or keeps asking him to indulge her. However when he was met with the same response once more, he realized that maybe he’s doing the commitment part wrong. Or perhaps he was the wrong one.

 

* * *

 

 

_He smiles softly when they leave because he understands that no matter how much he cries, they won’t return anyway. So he smiles and hopes to leave a good memory as a token of appreciation instead._

_He wonders if that’s the real reason his mother left him—perhaps it was not because she couldn’t handle being a single parent, but because she couldn't handle having a son who wasn’t quite the normal type of guy._

_People are not supposed to smile when they are left behind, right?_

_He makes it a habit to smile. A lot. Anyway. Until it becomes a distinguishable part of him. An inseparable part of him._

 

* * *

 

 

And so he shrugs and whispers

“C’est la vie,”

 _Such is life_ ,

whenever he finds himself remembering that day. He goes back to distracting himself with his new found love in skating. Which he discovered as something that came naturally to him.

He deems it amazing to watch yourself glide on top of the perilous glistening ice. Committing his everything to skating is arguably easier than keeping up with a date, his young mind decided.

 

So he skates until he feels his ankles scraped raw. He skates to the point of being scouted and ended up being the national star. He skates to brush off that lingering thought that something is missing. So he skates until he can’t even feel anything. He skates portrayals of themes explained to him and on how others see it. He skates until he is consumed. He skates to feel satisfied at something.

He skates until Yakov screams at him to take a break. He skates anyway for 5 more minutes just to _endear_ himself more to the aging man.

 

* * *

 

 

_He skates for his beloved crowd that loves him unconditionally back._

 

 

* * *

 

He sees a lovely brown poodle on his walk home from the rink one day. It was fairly sized but shivering cold against the Russian snow. He scoots over the snow bank and sees that the poor whimpering dog doesn’t have a collar. A sick dog on a beautiful day. He frowns and firmly believes this lovely dog doesn’t deserve that, so he takes it home.

He skips skating practice for the first time in his life and cared for it until it got better. He officially adopts him days later, making a different headline in the newspapers and magazines for a change.

 

* * *

 

 

_It takes a few years later when he realizes something._

  
_Something’s wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. His mind supplies him as he pose in the center of the rink, surrounded by the deafening roar of applause._

 

_He feels empty._

 

_He realizes he lost his passion, his ‘spark’ towards skating and he was unnerved on how easily he lost it._

 

* * *

 

 

He ignored the importance of living his life and finding love, he lost _himself_ in skating that he lost the _essence_ of his skating itself. And now he feels a daunting kind of emotion he can’t quite name.

Victor finds comfort in curling himself against his silent, never-judging lifelong companion Makkachin, named after that certain Mocha episode which never stops to make him smile, who contently snuggles against his crying human.

  
And so he continues to skate, pretending he has still got it. Most of the times turning to Makkachin for inspiration, with the blessed poodle helping him get back to his feet.

 

* * *

 

 

_He’s okay,_

 

_He chants every morning. He’s aware he’s lying to himself but he can’t quite get himself to stop._

_So he jokingly changes his chant into “Do it for Makkachin!!”_

_Which worked for another two years until he realized his beloved poodle was not getting younger, and that he was ignoring the lovely poodle for skating._

_He curses himself, torn between his career and his dog._

 

 _He chooses to prioritize both because he can’t stomach the idea of saying good bye to either of them_.

 

* * *

 

 

So he skates under the theme of longing, under the guise of **love** , in the off chance of understanding [love], because he already understands the longing part (wishing to turn back time, wishing to have not neglected his beloved poof, wishing for his hair to grow thicker again). He yearned for it, even though he honestly couldn’t even grasp its concept. He was met with applause and adoration instead of the answer he knew he did not quite got yet.

 

* * *

 

 

_His heart beats for the heart that would claim his. His mind screams for him to stop hoping._

_He longs for someone._

_He longs for the person who’d stay close to him and never let go._

 

* * *

 

Victor Nikiforov continues to smile for the cameras.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not update this. (Maybe when I feel shitty about myself again...)


End file.
